A Weapon's Heart
by Key to the Night
Summary: Rand's power seems to be going to his head, now he has created something no one knows about. A living weapon. However there are mistakes even Rand al'Thor cannot fix. OCxOC pairing, rated M just because I have no idea how intense it will get, after bk. 11
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:**This is my first ever Fan Fiction, so at least try to be tolerant. Especially since I read the books about a year ago. I plan on reading them again, but they are long books, and I am busy. I would like this to take place after the eleventh book, but I need to know what Forsaken are left. If anyone knows, please help. Alright, I know this first part is odd. It has nothing to do with the actual book, it is just introducing my first OC, and yes she is originally from earth. I was going to pair it with another part where you get to see the connection, but I thought it would be just a smidgen too long. So, please, just bear with me! Oh, and sorry for the corny title!

* * *

Sighing I put the pencil down, I had done enough studying for the time. I would take a ten minute break and then pick up the books again. Well, I would like to think that was what I was going to do, but to be honest, that wasn't going to happen. I have three more days before the biology exam, and the real studying would occur the night before the test. After all, I only needed to know about the immune system, DNA replication and the path blood takes though the body. What I really wanted to do was simply play my violin, and prepare for the small concert I would give at my church.

That's my life and my character summed up in a few short words. Studies, music, and procrastination. Though my life could do without the procrastination part. I'm sure my teachers, and my psyche, would appreciate if I didn't wait till the last few weeks of semester to turn everything in to be graded. Well, everyone needs pitfalls in their characters, right? That was just one of mine. Luckily however, I had one redeeming quality for just about every pitfall, something that would make anyone happy. Unfortunately, that fact didn't work its magic on me. I was happy, sure, but I never felt right. I never felt like I belonged, like this world was really where my destiny was meant to unfold.

These thoughts were sure to depress me and keep me from my music, so closing my eyes for a second I let them all go. Or tried to. The feelings of being a misfit always hung in the back of my head, along with that annoying song from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer; where that elf and Rudolph sing about being a misfit. I did, however, come up with a temporary solution at the very least; which was what I was planning on doing anyway. Playing my violin. Picking up the instrument I lost myself in the music as it entwined itself with my very soul. If only life could always remain this sweet.

The next three days went as I had predicted, passing with a lot of procrastination, some frantic studying towards the end, and finally, the biology exam. However, none of that is very interesting, none of that would ever get me recognized by anyone outside of my small circle. None of that would change my life. No, it takes something much larger than a biology test to irreversibly change one's life. Car crashes, on the other hand often times do change a persons' life.

One week after my biology exam came the time for my church concert. The event was exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time. I wanted to go out on stage and show off my talents as a musician, share my intimate love of music with others. I wanted to run and hide. That feeling of cowardice led to me to oblivion as I drove down the highway I had to take to get to my church. Soon, I was going well over sixty-five miles per hour and not focusing on what lie ahead. Maybe if were smart enough, or mature enough, I would have held my wits together in time to see the swerving vehicle in the opposite lane. Maybe I would have been able to conclude that he was either drunk or losing control. Maybe I could have taken evasive action. The fact of the matter is, I did none of these things. I was too absorbed in myself and my concert that, in the scheme of things, meant nothing. I kept my foot on the gas peddle and accelerated right into the collision.

There's not much I remember. No pain, no actions I might have taken, no squealing of the breaks, and no shock. All I remember is a brief prayer that I offered up to my heavenly Father. _I thought you had more in mind for me, I thought my destiny was different._

There must have been a laps in time where I was not in my conscience mind, for the next thing I remember was a bright light. No, two bright, white lights, and smaller, equally bright blue and red flashing lights. Wait, the blue and red lights were gone. And either the two white lights were getting extremely close or they were actually melding together to form one large, incandescent orb. On second thought I must have been going crazy earlier. The light was obviously never separate, nor did it have blue and red coloring in it. The light was that of the sun. A beautiful summer sun…

* * *

There that was the end of the first part, the next part with take place in the book I promise! Please Read and Review!! Thanks


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: **Here is the second installment to my story. Thank you to my one reviewer, Ginnia.

I realized that I never put a disclaimer on the first part of my story, so here it is now. I do not own the Wheel of Time series, only Arnath and the woman you were introduced to in the first installment. Though I am not famous for these wonderful books I am not opposed to signing a few autographs! grins

The sound of the galloping horse's hooves was dampened by the lush grass underfoot and the torrents of rain coming from the heavens. The rain had fell from the sky like this for four days now, which led Arnath to believe the Creator was angered at the world. The most probable cause for this anger, Arnath himself. He was not one of the first Asha'man Rand al'Thor had created, but he was just that. A creation. Not of the Creator, but of the Dragon. A weapon kept secret from everybody. With the exception of the Creator so it seemed. Though, even Rand must have known his attempts at playing a god would not go entirely unbeknownst.

The Dragon had been trying for several months now to create an Asha'man from scratch. The final result was unfortunately not what was expected. Arnath was not able to fully wield saidin, nor was he what you would call whole. He looked handsome enough, with his striking scarlet hair, and near black eyes set in a golden tan face with a strong jaw line. His body was near perfect, that is with his clothes on. All the well formed and balanced muscles that he possessed could not hide his imperfections. For it seemed, only the Creator could make something truly beautiful. Arnath was scared. The skin hidden under his tunic and pants resembled something more akin to a baby's quilt, as if his creator had grown bored, or restless and decided that some parts were without need of normalcy. This skin also carried characteristics of previous owners. For that was what he was, a hodgepodge of people melded into one being. His chest carried a long arching, frayed scar that had been the killing wound of the donor. Along the length of his back ran roping scars from the lashes of a whip, and his right side was marred by a large, indented scar from the fatal trust of a war spear. There were many more scars across his physic, all hastily patched together after the host's death so Arnath could function properly without physical hindrances. As bad as the scars on his body were, the scares on his mind were worse. It seemed that with every body used in his making came memories from those people. Memories of their death and pain. Arnath had died many deaths before he was even alive, each of them taking its own toll on his psyche.

For all Arnath's imperfections, he was a success. He was living proof that even through insanity, Rand al'Thor was the most powerful being on this earth. Nothing could stop him from his goal, even if that goal meant his eventual death. Arnath was part of this goal. If Rand could find a way to enable Arnath to fully wield saidin, then Arnath would be used as the weapon he was intended to be. He would be sent to hunt and destroy political enemies of the Dragon without the atrocity being tied back to Rand. More importantly, Arnath would hunt the remaining Forsaken. Even if he did not destroy them he would at least save Rand the inconvenience of searching for them himself. If all went well, Arnath would also make a showing at the final battle, for he was guaranteed to last that long. He was able to touch the source without feeling the taint of saidin. He could even touch the true source without reparations, if for a limited time and efficiency.

Despite Arnath's intended use he was on an entirely different assignment. Rand was busy furthering his sphere of influence by eliminating open opposition and so left the task of finding a solution to his weapon's saidin problem to the weapon himself. Which was why Arnath was out in the rain galloping his horse to no where in particular, and unable to erect a barrier to keep him dry. His temper was short and close to breaking. He had no idea what he was searching for, and the rain kept conjuring up a particularly gruesome death suffered by one of his 'donors'. He had grown fairly used to having small events trigger these playbacks, and had become somewhat desensitized to them, but the memories always put him in a foul mood. On verge of lashing out at anything he could find that did not resemble his only form of transportation he spotted something peculiar to his right. About four spans from his position seemed to be an extremely wet object. Its color darkened by the rain and the outline blurred.

His horse gave a displeased squeal as Arnath tugged the reins to his right hip. Slowing down to a trot he began to make out the form of a human. He was crumpled on the ground lying in a pool of his own extremely diluted blood. Out of curiosity and boredom Arnath dismounted to examine the body. As he extended his hand the man let out a pained groan. An awfully feminine sounding groan, that surprised Arnath. He had not thought a woman would be out so far in the country by herself. It seemed too impossible, maybe this was just a young boy who had not grown into his adult voice yet. The presence of breasts soon erased this seemingly desperate thought from his head. This blood and rain soaked body was a woman, a small, young woman in foreign garb. He began to panic, a weapon he might be, but the completely irrelevant death of young woman was something he did not want to see. Though he may be an abomination, he was in possession of a heart that knew kindness in select circumstances. He was also acutely aware of a nagging feeling that this woman was rather important somehow. A quick search of the girl's body showed her wounds. They were bad. A large wound to her head that was pouring blood, broken bones, lacerations, contusions, and many minor wounds. Arnath could not fathom as to how this young woman obtained these injuries, but he knew he must do something. He scooped her up into his arms and looking around realized that he was a full three days from any sort of civilization. He would never get her to a healer in time. Of course, he could heal her.

Apprehension set in, he could not fully wield or control the Source. He had as much chance of killing her as of healing her. Probably more of a chance of causing her death. As much as he did not want to see this woman who meant absolutely nothing to him die, he did not want to bear the weight of causing her death on his shoulders. He already had enough death. Setting her gently back on the ground he began to feel desperate. He knew even if she died of her own wounds he would still feel the immensity of her death in his heart. It would never leave him. Her death would provided yet another memory to be triggered by the rain. As his desperation reached a point Arnath made a wild grab for saidin. The power slid through his fingers, evading his unstable frame of mind. He had touched it though, and in the midst of his crisis, he felt elation. The Source was there, for the first time in easy reach! Trying hard to clam himself he reached out once more. The sudden rush of power and vitality was enough to make him insane. It was so sweet. There was nothing in the world he could imagine that he would enjoy more than filling himself to brim with this sweetness. His eyes fell on the broken, dyeing form of the woman lying on the ground before him, and he remembered what was at stake. He had to save this woman, for the sake of himself as much as for the sake of her. Greedily wrapping his arms around saidin he drew more into himself and began channeling it into the delicate pattern of healing. He watched in fascination as he guided the different elements in their intricate dance and placed them on the woman. As the threads were being absorbed the woman let out an awful shriek. Her wounds were bad and so the pain was intense. As her howl grew more shrill and loud Arnath began to worry. Was she going to be able to handle being fully healed of her injuries? Previous thoughts of possibly killing her began to creep in to his mind causing the strands of power to waver. He was losing control. The pattern was slipping and he was having to force siadin more and more. The power could not be forced, it would always backlash. Fear of this caused Arnath to jump up and stubble backwards, breaking the contact of the healing spell to the woman. As her screams died away they were replaced by his. The strands of siadin he had been using were not cleanly cut leaving them to snap back into him. From such a sweet power came such pain and he soon lost his hold on the source.

* * *

That seems like a good place to end it for now. Sorry it was so long. I hope you all don't mind that it dragged a little at the beginning. Please read and review! And feel free to ask questions!


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: **Sorry this is so late in coming, I really don't know why I haven't put it up. After all I have had it ready for a verylong time. Thanks once again for the review Ginnia sent me. I like knowing people are interested in my story, though it is a little disheartening that I only have one reviewer… Anyway, I own nothing to do with the Wheel of Time except Arnath, and the woman, and whomever else I come up with. Read and hopefully enjoy! Oh, by the way, this chapter is really short.

* * *

Forced to his knees Arnath wrapped his arms around his quivering body and allowed the rain to cool his pain. For the first time in four days the Creator's wrath was welcome. Still quivering Arnath straightened from his hunched position. He may have delayed the young woman's death by her wounds, but if she stayed out in the rain for much longer she could catch cold and die. Looking around Arnath felt at a loss, there were outcrops of trees, but they would not offer much shelter. The rain was too intense and had lasted far too long to not find its way through branches. He could see no large outcrops of rock, or anything else that might be used as a shelter. There was just grass. Only grass. He did not know what to do, what seemed the welcome relief of a few short seconds ago had once again turned into a curse. With the rain unsurprisingly showing no signs of slowing Arnath placed the woman upon his horse and ran through calming exercises Rand had told him about before he left. They were ment for controllers of siadar, but seeing as how the void Rand used did not help ,this was worth a try. Envisioning himself as a river being guided by its banks Arnath reached for the source once again that day. He knew it was crazy the chances of success were beyond slim. Yet, he had found it, and controlled it for a time not more than ten minutes ago. Maybe he could do it again. Hoped welled up inside him as he brushed the elusiveness that was saidin. In excitement he grabbed at the power, but to avail. It would not come with actions like that. Reminding himself that he must remain calm he tried for a second time. Like before the second time worked, and he was filled with an awesome glory. The world seemed more alive, the grass greened, the rain sweeter and the woman wetter.

Staring at the drown rat slung in the saddle he became lost. His brow drew down in frustration as he realized he had no idea of what to do next. He had watched Rand weave countless patterns with the source, and had seen from afar the Asha'man working, but never had he seen the weave for a protective barrier against the rain. Rand had never considered that knowledge to be useful. Not only could Arnath not fully use saidin, though that seemed to be changing, he desperately needed to blend in. If he was to hunt enemies, especially the Forsaken he needed to not stand out. He was an assassin. Assassins needed to pounce from the shadows not announce to the whole world where they were by not getting wet during a rainy day, or days. Out of desperation Arnath grabbed a cord of air and spirit, and a small strand of water. These elements had to work, there was no reason why they shouldn't he thought to himself. For the next few minutes Arnath stood in deep concentration his near black eyes glittering in the dim light finding its way through the dark clouds. He could try several different weaves and see what he came up with, but the weaves might go wrong. What if he messed up and was hit with the backlash again. The truth was, he was frightened. He may have been created to look like an adult, but life was still fairly new to him. Though he knew death better than life he did not wish to meet his end just yet. The fear of messing up put him in a stupor. What was he supposed to do? His face twisted into a quivering snarl. Along with fear came many other emotions. Emotions he wished not to face, they were too potent and confusing. He needed to push these problems out of his mind, he had jobs to do. The first being to take the woman to a town for healing. Placing his foot into the stirrup Arnath swung his leg over the horse's back and situated himself behind the young lady.

Turning his horse to the right Arnath started back the way he had come. The town he had come from was a full three days ride from his current position, but he found logic in the idea of backtracking rather than going on and finding nothing. He could not chance keeping this woman in the rain for longer than he knew he had to. Cautious of the woman slung in front of him Arnath urged his horse into a tort. With most her wounds healed, or at least lessened, Arnath judged the woman able to handle the bouncing gait of his horse. Though she might end up with minor bruising on her ribs and mid section at least she would have to chance of being dry sooner.

* * *

I hope you like it! Please read and review! I spend a lot of time writing this, planning out what is going to happen next and then proof reading it so hopefully you get the best rendition possible, so a small review on everyone else's part shouldn't be much to ask for. The exception to that rant would be Ginnia, thank you once again for reviewing.


End file.
